


Thumbs and Coffee

by CawCawMF



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff galore, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CawCawMF/pseuds/CawCawMF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly has had enough of being Sherlock's little pet. How will he react? Fluffy little one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thumbs and Coffee

"Molly, would you hand me Mr. Johnson's thumbs?" Sherlock asked, already extending his hand without waiting for a response.

"They're right behind you."

Sherlock paused, but only for a moment. Perhaps she had a rough night. Time to lay on the charm.

"Molly, the thumbs, please," he said, dropping his voice an octave as he knew would make her blush and fall over herself to please him.

"As previously stated, Sherlock, they are right behind you. In fact, they are literally a foot away from you."

Her tone was not meek or admiring, as he expected. Instead, it seemed rather...condescending. He finally turned from his spot at the microscope to look at her. She was sitting with her head bent over her desk, busily scribbling at her paperwork, not even sparing him a second glance. He scowled at this.

"I've upset you somehow," he deduced. He must've. It was the only logical solution. However, Molly merely rolled her eyes at his statement.

"No, Sherlock, you have not upset me. You haven't even spoken since you came in. A rather poor deduction on your part, if you ask me."

He bristled slightly. "Well then, what is wrong with you?"

She sighed exasperatedly and finally raised her head to glance at him. "Sherlock, given that I am twenty feet away from them, it would seem highly illogical for me to stop my work for something that would take you two seconds. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Actually, I would argue that we have wasted far more time with this silly discussion than if you had just walked over and given me the thumbs."

She raised an eyebrow. "And whose fault is that?" she asked sardonically.

"Well, yours, of course. You've wasted valuable time with this petty argument," he stated bluntly. He expected for her to flush in embarrassment and stutter an apology. He was mistaken, again.

A look of shock briefly crossed her face before a hard glare took over. A glare, he was surprised to find, directed solely at him. She stood up forcefully, her chair scraping loudly across the floor. She stalked over briskly to the table directly behind him. His lips lifted into a triumphant smirk as she picked up the thumbs. However, as she turned around, he became slightly wary of the look on her face.

"Here are your bloody thumbs!" she yelled as she threw them in his face. It was his turn to be shocked.

"Mol-"

"No! You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes. I may not be a genius like you, but I am not stupid and I am not your bloody doormat. I worked hard to get to where I am. I'm the youngest pathologist Bart's has ever had for a reason and I do a damn good job. You will no longer treat me like dirt beneath you shoes or toy with my emotions to get my help. I will be more than willing to help you, but you have to treat me with respect and acknowledge that I'm an actual human being, you insufferable git!"

She let out a huff after her tirade. She noticed with great satisfaction that his eyes were wide and his mouth had even parted slightly. Had she, Molly Hooper, shocked the great Sherlock Holmes? She was starting to feel very pleased with herself when she was yanked from her thoughts - literally.

Suddenly, she was aware of his grip around her wrist as he pulled her sharply against his chest. Before she could even question his actions, his mouth was on hers. He had one hand still gently gripping her wrist while the other wrapped deliciously around her waist. Her mind went blank.

This was not going according to plan. She was supposed to be getting over him! She was not going to fawn over him anymore. She was not going to daydream about him anymore. She was not going to waste anymore time on him. Why did he have to spoil everyth - oh, lord, his lips are soft. No! Stay strong, Molly!

She raised her other hand slowly to his chest - his perfectly toned chest (No, Molly!) - and tried to push him away with much less strength than she was going for. He just held her more firmly, his mouth becoming more insistent against her own as his tongue traced her lower lip. Oh, fuck it!

She felt his surprise when she finally started to respond, pushing her lips fervently against his. She pulled her wrist free and tangled her hands into his dark curls, something she had always dreamed of doing. They were just as soft as she'd imagined, she noted with a soft sigh. Sherlock took this chance to slip his tongue into her mouth and she moaned softly. She heard him chuckle softly, so she pulled at his curls as punishment. However, to her surprise, he let out a deep growl and pulled her body, if possible, even closer to his.

After several minutes, or hours as far as she knew, they pulled away. Both were breathing heavily. Molly noted Sherlock's flushed cheeks and dilated pupils as he tried to get his breathing under control. A shy smile made its way onto his face. Wait, shy?

"Molly, um...how about some coffee?" he asked, his voice still deep.

She pushed him away roughly as her previous anger returned. Oh! How could she have been so stupid? Of course he wasn't interested in her. He was merely using her, again, to get what he wanted. She wasn't reacting accordingly to his usual methods, so he had to improvise. She was on the verge of tears, but she would not let him see that.

"Sherlock Holmes, that is low, even for you," she bit out through gritted teeth, trying with all her might to keep her voice from trembling. Seemingly genuine confusion and hurt crossed his face. Oh, but he was a good actor, Molly reminded herself.

"Molly, what are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? I'm talking about the fact that you just snogged me so I would get you some coffee. Honestly Sherlock, I don't understand it. I told you I would still help you in the morgue if you would just show me some respect, so why are you still trying to manipulate me? Is it because I'm not fawning over you anymore? Well, I'm sorry if I bruised your ruddy ego, but-"

She stopped abruptly when she noticed he was chuckling. She felt her face grow red with rage

"Are you actually laughing at me? My God, you really are a bastard."

"Molly, you misunderstood my question. Please, allow me to clarify," he said as he walked toward her and took her hand gently. She wanted to rip it out of his hand, but she was frozen by the sincerity in his ice blue eyes.

"Molly, would you like to go out with me to get some coffee?"

Her brows furrowed. He couldn't mean-

"Like a date?"

He grinned softly. "Yes, Molly. Like a date."

She stopped breathing. Sherlock Holmes had just asked her out on a date. He had bloody snogged the living daylights out of her and then asked her out. Surely she was dreaming. Or she had died and gone to heaven. Stuff like this didn't happen to mousey Molly Hooper. But...Suddenly she got a horrible idea. This was Sherlock Holmes, after all. Everything he did had an ulterior motive.

She pulled her hand out of his gently, but didn't move away as she noticed his face fall slightly.

"Is this a trick?"

His brows furrowed now.

"A trick?"

"Yes, Sherlock. A trick. You're not just doing this to get back in my good graces and get free reign of the lab are you? Or...oh God, is this an experiment on human emotion or pheromones or some shit like that?"

His face grew horrified the longer she spoke, so she finally just trailed off.

"What? Of course not! Why would you-Do you really think I'd do that to you? I just-" He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly, a heartbreaking look taking over his beautiful features. "Have I really hurt you that badly?" he implored, his eyes gazing into hers as if he could read her deepest secrets.

She opened her mouth to say no, of course not. She wanted to take that depressing look of his face. But she thought better of it. He had hurt her. She couldn't lie about it. It was better to be honest about it. However, at the same time, she couldn't say the words. Instead, she just closed her mouth and looked to the floor.

It was silent for several seconds, and for a minute she thought he might have silently slipped away. However, she was proven wrong when she herself gathered in his arms and his warm lips pressed against her temple.

"I am sorry, Molly Hooper. I know I am...well, I am an arse, most of the time. But know that from now on I will try my hardest to do so much better by you. You deserve better. And I genuinely meant it when I asked you out for coffee. No ulterior motive, I swear. Perhaps in time, you will come to trust me more."

Time. She liked the sound of that. It meant he planned on sticking around. It meant he was truly interested. It meant he cared.

"Okay," she found herself saying.

"Okay?" She could hear the rumble of his voice in his chest against her cheek.

"Okay, I'll go out with you."

He pulled away suddenly and she looked up at him only for him to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Brilliant," he said with a smirk. "How about now?"

She looked at her watch and realized that it was actually time for her break.

"Alright. It's my break, so I suppose we could go up to the canteen-"

"Oh heavens, no. Horrid coffee. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly. There's a nice café just down the street."

She laughed lightly at his slightly childish manner as she gathered her jacket and followed him .across the morgue

"Hang on," she said as they walked through the door. "If you hate the coffee in the canteen so much, why do ask me to get it so often?"

The shy smile reappeared on his face, this time accompanied by a light blush.

"Because you make it."


End file.
